


Infinite Us

by Represent



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:33:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Represent/pseuds/Represent
Summary: Ladybug has five minutes left with Chat Noir, and she isn't ready to give them up.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Infinite Us

Ladybug woke in the cooking section of a library with the word “chance” tumbling from her lips. It was the ancient atrium of a newly modernized building. Like always, she was crouched down behind a bookshelf with Chat Noir at her side.

Far, far above her head, thin marble columns rose upwards, curving into graceful arches to meet in the middle. Early morning light shone through the enormous circular skylight positioned at the center of the atrium’s domed ceiling. It illuminated little specks of golden dust that had been disturbed by them seconds before. The room was empty, sound hushed.

Meeting her gaze, Chat tapped the screen on his baton and the numbers 04:58 began to flash. 04:57… 04:56... He reached down, flipping through a cookbook at his side, stopping at a random page. “ _Lobster Tails Meunière_ ,” he read aloud to mark the attempt, green gaze flicking back up for her lead.

There were 2,000 recipes in _The Escoffier Cookbook and Guide to the Fine Art of Cookery_. That one was new. Ladybug took it as a good omen.

There was nothing but seriousness in Chat’s face right now. Seriousness and a rosy glow of determination and confidence.

Ladybug’s fingers drifted off her bracelet to cradle Chat’s cheek. Her gloved thumb followed the line along the bottom edge of his mask, right at the exposed part of his cheek. She watched the depth and vibrancy in his eyes. Could see a ring of eyelashes through the colored glass. Could feel the heat from his skin. He had a freckle on his upper lip. Not for the first time Ladybug realized her partner was beautiful. The first few times she had stopped to really notice she had cried. An ache started in her throat and grew until her entire chest was sore, until she was breathless with grief.

A blush colored his cheeks and his neck. She watched, with some fascination, the steady beat of his heart through the vein in his neck. It was throbbing quick. He was searching her face for answers now, lip pursing into worry. “Uh oh… It’s that bad?” Chat joked.

She wasn’t ready. It wasn’t the right time around. Ladybug got up from her crouch and held out her hand.

Chat took it without question and allowed her to lead them both out of the atrium into a modernized foyer, then into an elevator. She pressed floor four. 

“What’s the plan?” he asked as the elevator doors shut. Ladybug could detect a thread of nervousness behind his grin. He was probably wondering why they were going up when the akuma was last spotted below.

Such faith. It cracked her heart a little further every time. Ladybug squeezed his hand, watching the elevator numbers tick so she didn’t have to look him in the eye as she admitted, “No plan.”

The doors opened to an art gallery absent of people.

She let go of Chat’s hand, even though she never really wanted to, and began walking through the exhibit. She could hear the soft sound of his footsteps following her. Extremely large images of sand flicked by in succession. Ladybug didn’t stop to marvel at them.

Chat always did. “Whoah,” he said and she glanced back, catching him craning his neck. “This isn’t a photo. Someone drew this.”

Ladybug used up a few of her seconds to watch her partner, feeling a wash of fondness as Chat placed his hands on his hips and tilted forward, nose scrunched, face inches from the canvas. “LB how long do you think this took to make?”

Years, Ladybug thought. Aloud, she said, “This way.”

Chat let out a low whistle as they passed by a total of ten drawings. Each one looked alike. There were slight variations, however, upon closer inspection. It was the variations in Chat Noir that Ladybug kept discovering that made it impossible for her to stop doing this. They had been here over a thousand times before. Each time was a little different, but always ended the same.

They wound a corner and ended up in a smaller room. Ladybug headed towards the back where a replica of the interior of an old-style french house had been built. There was a bed and a little TV where you could learn all about Château de Blois.

It was the best place she had found for this. She had tried a lot of places. She had already dragged Chat around the entire city of Paris looking for a solution. Not that this Chat Noir remembered any of that.

She gestured at the bed, ignoring the documentary that was playing softly behind her, “I have a lot to tell you and no time to do it. How are we, by the way?”

Chat Noir obeyed, sitting on the bed, cat ears perked straight up, eyes bright now and curious. His knee bounced with pent-up energy. He glanced at his baton. “Three minutes, forty-seven seconds. Why? What’s going to happen?”

“I need you to pretend that everything I’m about to say is true,” Ladybug began.

Chat Noir gave her a funny look like, ‘why wouldn't I?’

Ladybug couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. She crouched down in front of him, placing a palm atop each bouncing knee. “You are going to die in three minutes,” Ladybug said.

Chat froze.

“Your heart. It stops. An arrhythmia,” Ladybug continued, keeping her eyes locked with his, making sure he was following along. They never had time to go over it again. “We’ve been here a lot. Anything you are about to say I’ve tried.” She had tried every hospital, every ER, every doctor; had tried Lucky charm-ing a solution countless times. 

Chat’s eyebrows drew together. His eyes were still present in the room with her, though. They hadn’t glazed off or flicked away in fear. “What?” he breathed. He searched her for a long moment for the joke. 

Ladybug knew better than to so much as flinch or blink right now while he was looking for a way out. Chat’s denial came in different severities every time, but it was never helped by her saying or doing anything until he did first.

A stormy look passed across his face as he took that in. “So... I’m dead and there’s nothing anyone can do about it?” he summarized, grinning.

Ladybug nodded, relaxing a touch. In her experience him grinning was usually the best outcome, even though it did seem a bit deranged. She took her hands from his knees, giving him a bit of space despite every bone in her body aching to hold him close. Even though she had held him so many times, it was always new for him. Too much of her affection too fast could scare him off.

“Wait. What about the Cure?” he asked.

“You know Ladybug can’t bring people back to life.”

Chat leaned back a touch. A clawed palm drew up to rest over his heart, expression a bit dazed. Ladybug watched as her partner’s brain spun, processing. Then he glanced back at her, eyes startled. “How… How many times have we done this?”

“Many,” Ladybug admitted. “Each time is a little different. Sometimes you don’t believe me. Sometimes you call your dad. Sometimes you call Nino. Sometimes we just sit together.”

“Nino?” Chat caught.

“I know you are Adrien Agreste,” Ladybug said and then waited to see how he would react.

Sometimes this revelation hit hardest. It was more real, more believable. Often the fact that she knew his name at all was taken as proof she was telling the truth about everything else. That realization typically followed with denial. Sometimes terror.

Ladybug watched closely as Chat’s chest heaved in panic.

A humming noise suddenly kicked off. It was only after it stopped that Ladybug realized the air conditioning had been on. The change shocked Chat back out of whatever place he had gone. “Do I know you?” he whispered.

“Do you want to?”

Suddenly he recoiled from her touch, gaze suspicious. “You’re not Ladybug,” he stated, as if the thought had just dawned on him. “This isn’t real.”

Ladybug’s heart sank.

He was standing now, stumbling backwards. His shoulder hit one of the wood beams of the replica, causing him to twist.

With a sigh she reached down and twisted the bracelet back into position.

  
.  
.

  
Ladybug woke again in the cooking section of the library.

Chat tapped the screen on his baton and flipped through the cookbook. _“Eggs Benedict,”_ he read aloud.

Ladybug was still reeling from last time. They had almost parted ways on terms she could (maybe) accept. But no— Chat had to get paranoid. Not for the first time she cursed all the replicas of herself that her partner had faced. Maybe if he hadn’t been tricked previously they would have a better chance at this.

“Ladybug?” Chat’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you wake up in the morning?” Ladybug asked, eyes locked down at the book in his hands. At the long pause she got out of her crouch and into a cross-legged position, chancing a look at his face. Sometimes his living face in all it’s animated glory really hurt to look at when seconds before it had been dead.

Chat was staring at her in uncertainty. After a beat he mirrored her, settling down at her side and putting down the book. “That’s a weird question. Why? Something to do with the akuma?”

“Yes,” Ladybug lied. “I need to know.” She needed a break. Even though she never grew physically tired, emotionally she was exhausted. She used up rounds getting to know him better, plucking up the courage to try again to say goodbye again.

He had a grin on his face now. “Usually because of my alarm clock.”

.  
.

  
She was back in the library.

 _“Grammont Pullet,”_ said Chat Noir, to her right. He set down the cookbook and tapped his baton.

Ladybug laughed. She laughed and then she cried. She wasn’t sure when she stopped doing the first and started doing the second. They sort of happened together, just like all of these second chances and all of these subtle striations.

Chat’s hands hovered beside her arms like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to comfort her. His ears flattened, green eyes distraught. However, when Ladybug leaned in his arms looped around her in an easy embrace, chin resting atop her head.

Eventually emotions passed and Ladybug went quiet, listening to the sound of Chat’s heartbeat and the rumble of his voice as he asked, “What’s the joke?”

“You started the timer after you read the recipe this time,” Ladybug said.

Chat’s grip shifted. He fell silent, as if weighing something, before he admitted, “I don’t get it.”

Ladybug reached up and patted his back. She hadn’t expected him to.

  
.  
.

  
This time around was _coq-au-vin._

They had made it to the elevator. This time, Ladybug pressed ‘Floor 4’ right as Chat pressed ‘Basement’. The elevator suddenly had a choice, and it chose to go down, and instead of twisting the bracelet to start over, Ladybug decided to take out some of her own anger on the akuma.

The fight was over before it barely begun.

The umbrella Ladybug tossed to Chat skidded across the floor. Chat stumbled. Ladybug reached down and spun the bracelet before she had a chance to watch him fall.

  
.  
.

  
The last recipe was _profiteroles_. And it was only the last one, because Chat— like always— surprised her. Ladybug supposed it was only a matter of when, not if. She could only do this so many times before Chat turned it back around on her.

He was glaring at her now, green eyes bright and vivid, unobstructed by goggles. Ladybug internally cursed whenever Chat decided to transform back because it meant there was no more baton— no more timer— and she always felt a bit lost within these three minutes without it.

“How many times have you put yourself through this?” he was asking her, again, since she couldn’t give him a straight answer. Suddenly, and swiftly, he got up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and took two steps forward into her personal space before Ladybug had a chance to stumble back. “How many?” he repeated.

“I-I don’t know!” Ladybug answered truthfully, suddenly flustered beyond belief. This was the first time Adrien Agreste had had the audacity to step this close to her, to get this mad at her.

“Marinette,” Adrien realized, sounding a bit punched in the gut. “You’re Marinette. This whole time...”

Not trusting herself to speak, Marinette nodded, eyes wide. The amount of times they had both come to know each other’s identities were slim. Rarely did it ever get this far. From this point on was uncharted territory for Ladybug. This Chat Noir suddenly became very real, no longer this strange version of himself that repeated the same phrases and did the same things over and over. No, all the sudden this _profiteroles_ version of Chat was wholly unique.

“If I die in three minutes—” he began.

“Any second now, actually,” Marinette corrected.

“—you’ll do what, exactly?” he finished.

Marinette knew how bad it sounded, but she said it anyway, “I’ll go back to when you’re not dead.”

Adrien’s eyes flicked to the Miraculous around her wrist for a second, brows scrunching. “And then what?”

Ladybug only had to meet his eyes for a brief second to answer that question.

Suddenly Chat had a strong grip on her arm, yanking it towards him.

It took Ladybug a full three seconds to realize what he was trying to do. “Chat. Stop. Chat, _stop_ ,” she hissed, veins icy, mouth dry. If he took the bracelet it was over. She twisted and ripped her arm out of his grip, stumbling back and away. A quick glance down confirmed the bracelet was still there and still activated. She kept it pressed tightly to her polka dotted chest, holding it with her other hand.

Adrien was shaking his head, bits of blond hair falling in and out of his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this,” he said, a little out of breath.

Marinette wondered if his heart had stopped and her fingers rested down upon the bracelet, but after a few seconds passed and he remained standing she let them drift away.

If Adrien noticed, he didn’t mention it. “Other people need you,” he accused. “Paris needs you.”

“Paris can figure it out,” she hissed.

Chat blinked, surprised. His face slowly morphed, surprise bleeding into understanding. “It’s ok, Bug. It will be ok.”

Her throat clenched and it felt like he had cleaved her entire body into two pieces straight down the middle. How? How would it ever be ok? When she thought of her future now she only saw darkness. There was nothing left.

“I know I can’t keep doing this,” she gasped, the words ripping out of her. “I know other people love me, need me. But you’re not the one that has to walk out of here alone." The word 'alone' made her own heart swell ten times too big until it felt like it would burst. She hoped it would. That would be a whole lot easier. She had wished a whole lot of things recently that would have appalled her younger self. “I’m not ready for that.”

“When will you be?” Adrien asked softly.

A hot surge of anger raced through her and she felt the insane urge to shove him or hurt him or do something because how dare he ask her that. How dare he! How dare he die in the first place! Ladybug was tempted to twist the bracelet just to get away from this version of Chat and go back to an earlier version who was still malleable and innocent. Just erase this attempt all together from his memory so she would never have to answer.

All she had to do was twist it. But then he’d be right. And if she didn’t twist it, he’d still be right. Because… he was right, regardless. And no matter how many times she could make him forget it, she would never forget it.

Adrien wobbled, taking a few quick steps back until he was slumping back on the bed, face pale. Time’s up.

Her anger evaporated and she was there, tugging him close into her chest, because this was the closest to Chat she had ever gotten in all her attempts. The crown of his head tucked underneath her chin, gloved fingers running through his hair, as she felt all the movement and life drain out of him. It was like this every time. Quick, quiet, sneaky. As quick as a switch. One minute the lights were on, the next they were off.

She had no idea how much time she had before her five minutes were up. If she had to guess it was down to seconds. Her fingers detangled out of blond hair and dragged along her side, along her arm, until they met her wrist and bumped against the bracelet. 

Was she? When would she be? Ready, that is.


End file.
